


Silver Screen

by Ashesintheair



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Golden Age Hollywood, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:56:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashesintheair/pseuds/Ashesintheair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard for a young actress to get a break, so Sansa counts herself lucky to have her mother's old friend, Petyr Baelish to help. She isn't blind to the price of his help, but he knows the Lannisters - Hollywood royalty - and her dream job whispers at her ear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When he saw her for the first time, she was at the end of the lot, looking lost. He had just finished meeting with a writer - a two bit hack who wasn’t worth his time – when she caught his eye. She wore a day dress, nothing special, but it showed off her slender form. Her red hair tumbled out from underneath a floppy blue sunhat. It wasn’t currently in fashion, but he couldn’t help but think that all it would take was a movie poster with her wearing it and every woman would want one. She half turned and with a start he realised that he knew her.  
“Sansa! Sansa, darling, over here.”  
The young woman looked confused as hell, clearly trying to place him and failing, but she made her way over to him. “I’m sorry, Mr…?” She waited politely for him to fill in the blank.  
“Baelish. Call me Petyr. I worked with your mother.” He steered her deftly over to a bench in the sun and they sat. Petyr pushed his sunglasses back and smiled. He had directed all of Cat’s movies, back before they invented sound. She had been a natural, with eyes so expressive that words would have been a travesty. She had bowed out with dignity, rather than attempt a talkie and fail.  
Sansa looked like her mother, but there was more than that. She had such a perfect poise, flawless face and such an air of innocence. It was endearing and enflaming, all at the same time. He needed a new face and she was born to be on the screen.  
“Come to follow in your mother’s footsteps?” he asked, teasingly, knowing it was true.  
“I had an audition. It didn’t go so well.” She bit her lip. “I want to be an actress but no one wants to listen…”  
“Everyone in town wants to be in movies, one way or another. It’s a tough business. You’ll soon learn that, perhaps to your sorrow. I’m afraid there are some unsavoury people who would want to take advantage of a young actress.”  
Sansa shifted and pulled her hat down a little to shield her eyes from the sun. “I’m born to it. I can do this better than anyone else, I’m sure of it.” There was such grit, such determination in her voice suddenly. He imagined her dressed in silks, her hair coiffed and diamonds at her throat, smouldering at the camera. She would break every heart that saw her.  
“Oh, I’m sure you can, sweetheart. Just a friendly warning.” Here it comes.  
“Mr Baelish…”  
“Petyr, please. We’re practically family.”  
“Petyr, then. Do you know anyone that could help me?”  
His smile broadened. “As it happens, I’m looking for someone myself. I need a lead for a film I’m directing.”  
Her eyes widened and she stared at him. “A lead?”  
“You understand that I need certain favours from my actresses. I wouldn’t want to put you in a difficult position, Sansa. My help comes with a price, you need to know that now.” His hand slipped casually onto her thigh. Her eyes dipped, fixed on his hand, and she paled a little.  
“I understand,” she said in a quiet voice.  
“Then I think we can work together very well indeed. Do you have plans this weekend?”  
“No.”  
He nodded. “Good. The Lannisters are throwing a party. We should be there.”  
“Shouldn’t we film-”  
He laughed and waved her into silence. “You need to impress people. We need to put your name out there, and the Lannisters are major power brokers here. If they like you, everyone will like you. They own most of MGM now, you know, hence the roaring lion. It’s rather crass, but they aren’t exactly shy violets.”  
“I know that,” she said stiffly. “Do you think I’ve come here blind? There isn’t a movie that Cersei Lannister has been in that I haven’t seen. Twice.” Her brow wrinkled. “If you know her, why do you need me?”  
Petyr sighed. Cersei Lannister, diva of the age; as difficult to work with as she was gorgeous, and prone to flouncing off set at the slightest provocation. “I prefer to work with upcoming actresses. And Cersei has limitations.” He saw the question forming in her eyes and spoke again quickly. This one was a little sharper than she looked. He might have to be careful. “How much have you heard about the Lannister parties?”  
She swallowed hard. “That you can get anything.”  
That wasn’t all she had heard, that was clear from the way her face flushed. “Any vice is indulged,” he said simply. “Anything. And you wouldn’t believe what you see going on in the pool,” he added with a chuckle. “It doesn’t always make Cersei the best to work with. You know that she won’t ever work with her brother?”  
“No, I hadn’t heard that.”  
Petyr raised an eyebrow. “And who can blame her. The camera doesn’t lie. There are some things that she doesn’t want on the screen for the world to see.”  
Sansa stared open mouthed at him. “And you want to take me to this party?”  
“Yes. I need them to love you, Sansa. I need you to do whatever it takes to make that happen.”  
He saw the resolve flare up again, and the twitch in her face as she clenched her jaw. “Can you make me a star, Petyr?”  
“Yes. If you do everything I say, this time next year everyone will know your name. What name are you using, anyway?”  
“Sansa Stark,” she said quietly.  
“We may need to do something about the Stark, dear."


	2. Chapter 2

Petyr took her shopping, then to dinner. It was a blur and she kept trying to slow time, to make the day pass more slowly, because she knew where it was leading. The restaurant was a classy one, reservations only, but Petyr managed to get a table nevertheless. She didn’t taste the food, concentrating only on her wine glass. _This will be easier if I’m a little drunk. Oh God, what am I doing? He’s nearly old enough to be my father._ But a treacherous little voice said, _Only nearly. And he can give you everything that you want. He can give you the whole world. Isn’t that worth any price? And he’s handsome enough. It won’t be a hardship._

She sang in the car on the way back to his place. It was a song she had learned as a child, about a bear.

“I didn’t realise you were a songbird as well.”

Her stomach lurched as he laughed and she felt warm suddenly as her cheeks flushed.

Petyr laughed again and wondered how many years in the business it would take before that stopped happening. It would go eventually, of course it would. They all lost their innocence sooner or later. But she wouldn’t get hurt. He would see to that, at least.

He took things slowly. He wasn’t a monster and she was so nervous that it took him an hour to get her clothes off, and another twenty minutes to convince her to stop trying to cover herself back up. “We don’t have to do anything tonight, Sansa,” he said eventually, holding one shaking hand in his while he kissed her neck. It was a lie, but a necessary one. An evening with the Lannisters was not wise with one quite so naive.

“No,” she said quickly and brought his hand up to her breast. She was still trembling, but it wasn’t all fear. She turned her face back to his. “Kiss me again.” He did, and his hand moved slowly down over her stomach until her hips bucked up. He used every skill, every art he had and she was begging for him before the end.

The sky was nearly grey when she rose to use the shower. Petyr had picked up a book and was leafing through it when she poked her head back around the door. Her hair was wet and clung to her shoulders. It made her eyes look large and vulnerable.

“You won’t… show anyone, will you? The photos?”

“Of course not. They’re just between you and me. A little fun, a little practice,” he smiled. It was an easy, trustworthy smile. _And a little insurance in case one day you decide that you don’t need me anymore._

He kept her busy for a couple of days, sending her to screen test with some actors, a couple of elocution lessons to see if she could drop the faint burr of an accent. It wasn’t important but it stopped her thinking too much about the weekend.

“Remember,” he told her as they stood in front of the faux _palazzo_. “Whatever it takes to make them love you.”

“What if I do something wrong?” she fidgeted nervously with her gown. It was blue silk, cut almost indecently low, and it had been worth every penny.

“Don’t. You can’t afford to do something wrong. Follow my lead and never, ever upset Cersei. If you upset Cersei Lannister you’re finished and even I won’t be able to help you.”

They were ushered in and he saw Sansa trying not to stare at everything around her. It was the kind of opulence that most people only dreamed of, but he took her arm gently and leaned down to her ear. “If it helps, imagine that it’s all fake. Pretend it’s nothing but wooden cuts outs and paint, like a set. Make the whole experience a movie in your head, if you struggle. You just need to play your part.”

Her jaw twitched and there was the stubborn light in her eyes again. Her head swung around and she seemed to forget about the marble and the gilt.

They were led to a hall with a tiled floor that opened out onto the poolside. There were already plenty of people milling around and there were more than a few faces that were more familiar to Sansa from posters.

“Petyr!” The voice carried across the room and Cersei Lannister came walking towards them. Her golden hair was artfully curled, with a few ringlets pulled back from her face. Sansa wondered how long Cersei had spent curling it with a hot iron, then felt foolish as she realised that there would be someone to do such things for her. She wore red, a dress almost the twin of Sansa’s own, and there was a leash wrapped around her hand. Sansa’s eyes followed it down and her breath caught in her throat.

There was a lion cub running at Cersei’s heels. Everyone knew that the Lannisters were nuts for lions, but she didn’t think there would be an actual lion running around the house. She eyed it warily. It was young and looked more playful than threatening. And at least it was on a leash.

“You should know better than to be fashionably late here, Baelish,” Cersei teased. “We had almost given up on you.”

“Ah, you know I couldn’t stay away.”

Another figure came up behind Cersei and Sansa forced her gaze away from the lion cub. She might have spent years idolising Cersei, but plenty of her friends had spent their time swooning over her twin.

“White tie, Jaime? I didn’t realise that it was that formal.”

“It’s good to see you too, Baelish. This?” He pulled at the collar of the shirt. “Cersei asked nicely. When are you going to work with me?”

“When I can find a lens big enough to fit in your ego.”

Jaime laughed.

“There aren’t as many here as I expected.”

“Father’s put us on a budget. How we’re supposed to have the most debauched party in town on a budget I don’t know. Still, we’re game enough to try.”

Cersei had been scrutinising Sansa while they spoke. “Who have you brought to play, Petyr?”

“This is Sansa. Sansa Stark.”

“Stark…” Cersei mused. “An ugly name, but why is it familiar?”

“It was Catelyn’s married name.”

“You’re Catelyn Tullé’s daughter?” Cersei frowned.

Sansa nodded and tried desperately to think of something to say, but her tongue was frozen and no words would come out.

“What are you planning, Petyr, and why wasn’t I asked about it?” she purred in a voice that was suddenly very dangerous.

“Cersei, I love working with you, you know that. But you have commitments right now and I can’t stop making movies because you’re not available.” Petyr tucked a strand of hair back behind Sansa’s ear. “And she has the face for it. Sooner or later, she’ll be in the business and I would rather that she was in our hands than someone else’s.”

Cersei looked sceptical but Jaime slid his arm around her waist and smiled. “Honestly, you can’t play every female lead. And look at the poor thing. She’s quite terrified of you.”  He pulled her around and into his arms. Cersei threw the leash to Sansa as they segued into a tango.

“Look after him,” she said bluntly as they danced away.

“She’ll come and talk to you later,” Petyr said quietly. “Make it clear you aren’t a threat.”

He left to talk to some people he knew and Sansa was left alone with the lion cub. She took a drink as a tray came around and tried not to look too hard at what anyone was doing. There were two young men sat to her left that she thought she recognised, but she couldn’t place their names. They weren’t letting an audience stop them from enjoying themselves. Sansa found herself staring again but wrenched her gaze away as one of them slipped down and pulled at his partner’s zipper.

She couldn’t find anywhere to put her eyes and instead she knelt and tried to play with the lion. That was how Jaime found her awhile later.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled. “I didn’t realise you were still holding the baby.”

“Baby?”

He nodded at the lion and scratched its ears. “Metaphorical baby. Cersei treats them like children. I suppose I shouldn’t let her, but she’s a hard woman to say no to. She never had children after her husband died.”

“Sorry?” Sansa said. She hadn’t known that Cersei had ever been married.

“Got drunk and fell in the pool. Drowned. It was tragic,” Jaime said with a cheerful smile. “Still, we only have two cubs now. This is Tommen and his sister Myrcella is outside. We had to give Joff to a zoo. He got a little hard to handle.”

“Thank you,” she said as he took the leash.

“How are you finding it? It’s a quiet night, you know.”

Sansa looked around dubiously. “Quiet?”

“There have been some complaints. Father might pull a lot of strings but the media like a good story. We’re on our best behaviour tonight.” He chuckled and shook his head. “A word of advice, don’t go up stairs. My brother is entertaining a number of actresses that want a part in his next screenplay. You probably don’t want him to mistake you for one of them. What does Baelish have in mind for you? He seems quite taken with you.”

“I… don’t know. He hasn’t said. I’m just glad he’s helping me.”

Jaime snorted. “Helping? Yes. If you say so. He needs another hit, and soon, or Father will start cutting his budgets down and he won’t like that.” He touched her face and she suppressed a shiver. He was a very attractive man and his fingers were warm. She rested her head in his hand for a moment, then pulled back. _Don’t make Cersei angry. And what will Petyr think?_  She needed them both.

“You’re a sweet thing. Don’t let Baelish break you.” He kissed her forehead and walked away with the little lion cub trailing behind him.

Sansa tried to socialise. Contacts were important, she knew that. There was a dark haired man in the corner alone and she strolled over. He didn’t seem to be with anyone so she smiled and tried to strike up a conversation.

“My name is Sansa,” she said and he shrugged.

“You’re an actress.”

“Well… Yes, but how do you know? No one knows my name yet.”

“I’ve watched you for about five minutes. I watch people. It’s what I do. And then I write it.” He looked at her from under dark brows and sighed heavily. “It’s a shame no one in this town appreciates art. All they want it beauty. Like that.” He nodded to the opposite wall where Jaime had Cersei pinned and was fumbling under her clothes. Sansa couldn’t even see where her hands were. She quickly turned her gaze back to the writer.

“What would you prefer to write?”

“You wouldn’t understand. My muse is dark and you would need to be a writer yourself to fully understand the layers of complexity in my work.”

Sansa tried not to roll her eyes and left the man in the brooding silence he clearly preferred. It was some time later when Cersei found her.

“I don’t know you, so forgive me for being blunt,” the older woman said. “But one word… one word about any of this outside these walls and I’ll destroy you. You won’t even be able to get a job as a waitress. Do we understand one another?”

She froze. She hadn’t expected smiles, but the venom was a shock. “I… Of course. I would never… I mean to say, that I would never want to hurt you. I’ve spent years watching your films. I think you’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen and I want to be just like you, except I know that I could never be as good as you. I don’t know what else to say, but I’ve loved your work for as long as I remember.”

She wondered if it was too much. It was true, all of it, but she wouldn’t have gushed like that had Petyr not told her to get Cersei on her side.

Cersei tilted her head and smiled. “Well. Perhaps you are a dear thing, after all. And Petyr is right, you do have a lovely face.” Her hand reached up to stroke Sansa’s cheek, much like her brother’s had, but Cersei leaned in and kissed Sansa full on the lips.

_I have no idea what’s happening. What do I do? I don’t want to offend her. I’ve worshipped her forever._ She tried not to freeze, while at the same time trying not to seem keen, but Cersei’s mouth was sweet, if somewhat forceful.

She broke it off hurriedly as she spotted Petyr and Jaime over Cersei’s shoulder.

“I’m clearly surplus to requirements,” Jaime said, but there was a smile in his eyes and he nudged Cersei playfully.

“What are your plans, Petyr?” she asked. “We can lend you a little support, I think, for the right movie, and the right price.”

“Historical epic,” he said promptly. “I’m still looking through a few options. My first thought was Boudicca, but she’s too young. I have a screenplay on my desk for Cleopatra, but that’s more your sort of role.”

Cersei smiled. “I would make a good Cleo.”

“You’d look terrible with black hair, love. Let that one go,” Jaime said. “How about Joan of Arc?”

“Too vunerable. Joan should have steel running through her to the core. Maybe in a few years the girl could pull it off, but not now.” Cersei shrugged and took Sansa’s chin in her hands. “There must be something else.”

It was exciting, to have such wonderful parts suggested and know that she was being considered for them, but the way they talked over her was humiliating. She gritted her teeth and drew in her resolve. Cersei saw the light flare in her eyes and laughed.

“There! Perhaps she could be Joan, after all.”

“Or Elizabeth,” Petyr said quietly.

Jaime whistled under his breath.

“That’s a big role,” Cersei said, doubt in her voice. “This one is more Lady Jane Grey than Elizabeth.”

“A young Elizabeth, the early days.” There was a thoughtfulness in Petyr’s voice and he nodded as he spoke.

“Elizabeth it is, then. Stick around after we throw the rest of this rabble out, Petyr. We can… discuss it further.”

Jaime’s arm looped through his sister’s and he flashed a quick grin. “You want her.”

“It might be fun to play. For a short while. Don’t you want her?” She raised an eyebrow and Jaime shrugged. “Sansa darling, would you like to stay behind a while and get to know us better?” Cersei continued, glancing quickly at Petyr.

Sansa looked up at the three of them. It almost would have been easier if they hadn’t asked her. It would have been easier to just go along with it without having to agree to it. It wasn’t what she would have chosen, exactly, but… She trusted Petyr and he had been gentle with her. Cersei was her idol and Jaime was, well, Jaime. Her feelings weren’t romantic but they were overwhelming. Could she pass this up without wondering for the rest of her life? She certainly couldn’t pass this up and still be the star she wanted to be. She gave Cersei her hand and smiled.

_One day, I will have a house like this and I will throw beautiful, elegant parties for the best and the brightest. I will choose who to invite and, on that day, I will hold the balance of power over everyone and I will make or break careers._


	3. Chapter 3

She hadn’t expected to be coming back to the house so soon. It would have been easier to just forget about it and bury herself in the work. There had been a day’s grace, and then there had been a phone call. Now she was standing outside the door of the Lannister palazzo, Petyr holding it open for her expectantly. She wondered how much of her thoughts showed on her face and tried to shut it down. It didn’t matter. He could probably guess at her reluctance anyway.

She stepped in and the smell made her shudder. It wasn’t unpleasant, quite the contrary, but it brought memories to the fore that she was trying hard to forget about. The large room that looked out onto the pool amplified it to an unbearable level. _That_ chair, _that_ flicker of light on the glass, the one she had focused on, the pattern of the tiling that had been too cold. Everything that came in through her senses was wired directly to her memory and supplied her with odd flashes. The feeling of a hand tugging at her hair, fingers digging into her hip, the taste of Cersei in her mouth and –

Petyr touched her arm and jerked her out of it. She set her teeth and forced her gaze out of the open French doors. She wanted to pretend that it hadn’t happened. She wanted to rewrite it so that it had been forced, so that she hadn’t agreed to it, so that she hadn’t treacherously enjoyed it. It would be so much easier to bear that way.

_A lead role,_ she told herself. _It will all be worth it. A lead role in a big budget epic. My face on billboards all the way to the East Coast._

Cersei Lannister was lounging outside, overlarge sunglasses covering her eyes while a woman held her outstretched hand and carefully filed her nails. She wore a bikini but Sansa couldn’t believe that she ever swam, not with her hair so perfectly coiffed, but Jaime was swimming and didn’t seem to even notice their arrival.

Cersei waved the woman away and beckoned Sansa and Petyr over with a smile.

“Our interviewer has yet to arrive, I’m afraid. Only one of the local hacks, but we must splash your name out into one of their tawdry rags.” She looked Sansa carefully up and down, her eyes hidden behind the smoky glass. “I suppose you look sweet enough, if one was looking for an ingénue.”

“That’s how we’re selling her,” Petyr said with a charming smile. Sansa wasn’t sure if he was trying to ingratiate himself further or genuinely trying to take Cersei’s focus away from her.   

The golden woman swung her legs lazily from the lounger and stood, her eyes narrowing as she looked closer at Sansa.

"No, no. Don’t you know anything, little dove? You don’t keep up with the trends. You set them. You aren’t one of the pack now."

She tugged roughly at Sansa’s fiery hair, pulling the curls that the girl had spent hours over. There was an anger in the gesture that Sansa didn’t understand, but she stood meekly and bore the pain. Cersei pulled back and gave an irritated sigh. She had pulled the curls over the girl’s head and down one side of her face.

"You’ll have to do."

The journalist arrived in short order and took copious notes while Cersei held court. Sansa kept quiet, talking only when she was directly asked a question, but even then she glanced at Cersei first, watching for any warning sign of the anger that had flared earlier. She didn’t need to say anything anyway. Cersei gushed about what a talented, pretty thing she was, how she had taken her under her wing and saw her as a younger version of herself - someone she could guide through the pitfalls of Hollywood.

The article ran the following day and Sansa could scarcely believe what she saw. The article mentioned her once, as a young up-and-coming actress. Everything else was Cersei. She waved it angrily under Petyr’s nose and he shrugged.

"They printed exactly what Cersei wanted them to print. Why the surprise?"

"I thought she was going to help me! I thought I was…" She couldn’t finish it. _I thought I was whoring myself out for a reason. Now I realise I was a fool to trust in the promises of Lannisters. And of directors._

"No one is interested in you yet. Cersei is a star, she sells magazines. If she keeps talking about you eventually people will start to notice and get curious but things will move slowly at first," he said in a comforting tone, trying to mollify her.

Sansa pursued her lips and kept her own counsel - a lesson learned a little late but valuable nonetheless. She arranged her own interview that afternoon.

It was easier than she had thought. Dropping Cersei’s name helped, as did mentioning that she had attended one of the infamous Lannister parties. The only thing people like to read about more than success is scandal and failure. The gossip rags were only too ready to tear down her idol, if she would let them. She had the information that would do it, too, but held back. She wasn’t sure if it was sentimentality for someone she had once admired, or if it was Cersei’s threat that stopped her from revealing the unconventional relationship the twins shared.

Besides, there was another way she could wound - something that could be written off as a foolish ingénue who had said the wrong thing at the wrong time. She dropped the line in half-way through the interview, a thoughtless slip of the tongue. “I think she thinks of me as her successor, you know. Of course, she has a few years left but she isn’t getting any younger,” she said lightly, with a silly laugh.

It would be another interview that wasn’t about her, but that was just fine. Another wannabe actress who wanted to show off who she knew and what she knew. There were scores of them. But the speculation on Cersei’s age, the doubt cast on her apparent immortal youth, would sting the woman and that was all that Sansa cared for.

She heard nothing for a few days and started to wonder if she had misjudged the barb. Even though her guard was up, it still came as a shock when a car pulled up next to her and she was abruptly bundled off the sidewalk and into the back seat. The driver climbed back in and the car continued as though nothing had happened.

Sansa sat frozen for a moment, too shocked even to scream. It had been so _easy_ for them. She couldn’t get over that, or the way that her limbs had locked, with no wit or instinct to fight back.

"What the hell do you think you’re playing at?"

She turned and found Jaime Lannister next to her, his mouth twisted into a snarl. “You’re damned lucky I found you. Do you have any idea how many people Cersei has looking for you?”

"I don’t understand. She knows where I live…"

He gave a harsh laugh and shook his head. “Oh no, sweetling, she wants a snatch and grab. ‘Mess up her pretty face. Teach her a lesson,’ were her instructions. And there are plenty of people out there who are only too happy to obey her.”

Sansa paled and glanced quickly at the car door. They weren’t moving fast. She could probably jump… “And that’s what you plan to do?”

"That’s when I decided that I had better find you first and see if this was an accidental slip of the tongue or a death wish."

She glanced at the driver and caught his eye glaring at her in the mirror. It wasn’t friendly, but there was no menace there, just as there was no threat in Jaime. Not yet, anyway.

"I… I didn’t think it would be… That is, I only wanted to show her that I," she paused, running her tongue over dry lips as she searched for the word. "Could play the game."

Jaime stared at her in disbelief. “You’re nothing, and you want to be seen as a _threat?_ Do you have any idea how-” he broke the sentence off, too frustrated to continue. “Would you poke a lioness with a stick? Of all the idiot notions…”

"Where are we going?" Sansa asked quietly.

"To see someone who might help you out for a short while. Cersei won’t forget this, but it won’t take long for her to resort to more subtle measures."

The car had pulled off the road and took them down a peculiar drive-way. Sansa couldn’t work it out at first. It looked like a back entrance, but she couldn’t place it. Jaime hopped out and the driver walked around to open Sansa’s door.

She couldn’t help but stare as she daintily climbed out. The side of his face was compelling to look at and horrifying at the same time. The flesh looked like half melted wax and she couldn’t take her eyes from it, anymore than she could help the quick intake of breath when he reached towards her to help her out. He caught the look and slammed the door closed, nearly catching the hem of her dress.

"Keep the engine warm, Clegane. I won’t be long."

The driver snarled and stalked back to his seat, muttering darkly to himself. Sansa found herself wanting to call out after him, to make it better somehow, but there was nothing she could think of to say, and Jaime was waiting impatiently at a wooden gate, conferring briefly with a man in uniform.

"The zoo?" she asked, catching up. The uniform was a distinctive one, but the location made no sense to her. When at last Jaime came to a stop at the lion enclosure, she remembered something he had said to her before. "The other cub?"

"From what I hear, Joff still doesn’t play well with others, but the adults here will bite back if he gets too full of himself."

"It’s good of you to visit him."

Jaime snorted and took a seat on a bench, leaning to stretch his arms along the back. “No, it isn’t. I don’t give a damn about Joff. It’s a good place to be that guarantees a little privacy. They let me in after hours to visit darling Joffrey, it makes a good story for anyone who gets curious about where I am and what I’m doing, and I get to meet with people I might not want to be seen with. Tyrion’s idea,” he added.

"Oh." Sansa sat next to him, leaning away from the arm that lay along the top of the bench slightly. They were silent for a time, watching the lions lounge in the sun, but there was a question nagging at Sansa and the quiet air drew it out of her. "Why are you helping me? She’s your… sister. So why are you helping _me_? That night, was it…? Do you…?” The words trailed off as he turned to stare at her.

One hand reached out and she was sure for a moment that he would touch her face, but instead he carefully grasped a handful of her hair. He looked at it, bewildered, and Sansa caught a glimpse of something unguarded - an entirely different Jaime to the playful, confident one of the party, or the irate Jaime of the car.

"No, don’t be absurd," he said quietly, talking more to himself than her and still staring at the redness of the hair in his fingers. "I have a sister." He let go abruptly and Sansa saw another man approaching.

That is, she took the figure for a man at first - broad shoulders and wrapped in a man’s long coat, despite the heat. At closer proximity, she could see her mistake. Thick set and plain she might be, but she was no man.

Jaime stood but his greeting was sharp. “You took your time.”

"I work on the other side of town. You know that."

"Sansa, this is Brienne. She’ll look after you for awhile."

Brienne gave Sansa a friendly smile. “Don’t worry, I think you’ll be safe with me.”

"She’s a journalist. A good one. Probably the only one who still writes what she damn well pleases about the Lannisters. God knows the police in this town are all bought and paid for with good Lannister coin, so maybe an honest tongue will protect you."

Brienne’s cheeks reddened slightly at the praise and she extended a hand to Sansa. “Stay with me for a few days, until things settle down.”

The young woman nodded slowly, but turned back to Jaime. “You didn’t answer me. Why are you helping me? I could tell people all about you. About Cersei.”

"Because Brienne writes ridiculous articles about morality and what a failure of a human being I am if I pretend that I don’t have a conscience. And because sometimes Cersei goes to places where even I won’t follow. Go. Make your movie. Father has given Petyr so much money that he’s probably rolling around ecstatically in it. Even Cersei can’t take that backing away from you now." He paused and shrugged. "Go and tell whoever you want about whatever you think you know. Maybe they’ll even believe you. I don’t care either way."

After, when her face was one of the most photographed in Hollywood, whenever they asked her about Jaime Lannister, she always made sure to smile and say what a good friend he had been in those early days. She made sure to mention how grateful she was to the family who had financed her early career. Always, silently, she reminded herself that it had all been worth it. Everything that she had done was worth it.

Clear blue eyes, white teeth, perfect lipstick and a smile… It hid so much. It hid the times she scurried home to Brienne at the end of the day’s shoot, leaving before Petyr could catch her. It hid the anxiety about the photos that she knew he still had, the photos that could wreck a career, or at least make it a markedly different one to what she had worked so hard and paid so much for. And it hid one last thing, the thing that even Brienne didn’t know, but must surely have suspected and the reason that they spoke so little these days.

Days after the opening of that first movie, when it was clear that there was a new star, a new queen in Hollywood royalty, the Lannister twins were found dead in their palazzo.

The gossip rags were all over it, printing every detail with relish, one of them even managing to obtain a few blurry photos of the scene.Found naked, double suicide… The stories practically wrote themselves. Throw in some wild speculation about drugs, jealousy, suspicions about homicide and an incestuous sex game gone wrong and the stories ran for months.

Sansa read them all. Every one. Only one had mentioned what she was looking for, and that was the short piece that Brienne wrote. People had thought it odd at the time, that Brienne - known for printing only facts - would write anything that even suggested the coroner might be wrong. It was an open and shut case. No need to go looking for trouble.

_"Early reports from the scene describe strands of red hair in Cersei Lannister’s hand.”_


End file.
